Scorder listened while I laid it all down, the rape, the maiming and the slighter. When I was finished the good Sergeant looked just a little bit paler.

“And you expect me to believe that all this has been going on under our noses for years?” It did seem pretty unreal, even to me and I was the one who lived through it.

“But it is real, Sergeant, and I have the scars to prove it.” That stopped his questioning dead in its tracks. Even from this distance I could see his thin frame suddenly become rigid with tension.

Now my scars weren’t like Quasimodo's or anything, but I did have a lot of them. And sitting there, seventy feet tall, dressed in what amounted to a half burnt bikini, they were painfully obvious. Lyndon caused most of them in a single night and it had taken months for me to completely recover.

“I’m afraid I can’t just take your word on that, Miss Etherglade. I need corroboration before I go accusing every politician in the country of molestation. Tell me where this 'Shrunken Person Rescue Team' is so I can see for myself,” Sergeant Scorder said.

“I told you already, I can't do that.” I took in a deep cleansing breath and let it out slowly.

“Sargent, It’s not you we have to worry about. Probably not even your chief but the mayor, the local business men, may by even the DA. We're sure there aren't as many beat cops involved as we originally thought, but you never know.” I wondered if I should tell him there were thugs going around posing as cops. Hmm… maybe later.

“So why tell me anything at all?”

“I haven’t told you anything the Dominants don’t already know. But if you want proof, you can find it at a little house on Lyndhurst hill.” The mansion had been one of the old haunts of a particularly infamous character named Robert Brink a logger baron from the 1930’s. He was in fact known as the guy who had his house build entirely for free during the depression. He’d hire workers on Monday, have them payed Friday afternoon and then fire them Friday morning. Back then every one was so desperate for work no one would listen to the talk of his scheme. And yes this has been going on that long.

“And what will I find there, Miss Etherglade?”

“Blood. They’ve probably cleaned out the whole place but blood doesn’t wash away that easy. And you’d better hurry or you might find it burnt to the ground before you get there.”

The good Sergeant once again held his head, preparing for an incoming headache. He seemed to be having a lot of them lately.

“Oh and Sergeant, can you please get me some food?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sergeant Scorder hung up his loud speaker and got back into his car.

The next few weeks were particularly boring compared to my first few days, which really was a nice change of pace. Scorder managed to get me one decent meal a day, which probably cost several grand per serving. A few days after the warehouse burnt down, I was even given a tent to live in.

The tent was even smaller than the warehouse to me and it felt as thin as silk in my hand but it had a floor and was waterproof. There I waited for three weeks, until Sergeant Scorder finally emerged with the denials of just about every one of the higher ups, which was to be expected.

However, he did come back with evidence that corroborated my story. In the basement of the old mansion he’d found the walls and floor covered with patches of blood. It had all been scrubbed clean, but black lights will make plasma residue glow for years after the blood is spilled. Of cource they didn’t know that back in the 30’s. Out of that mess they managed to scrape out a few samples. They were all different blood types and they were all human.

Time went by pretty slowly. Having a whole lot of nothing to do I slept most of the day. Ever since the first morning I came here the newspeople had been hounding the police barrier to interview me. The good Sergeant said I was entitled to talk to the press but advised agents it.

I was worried about Mike. I hadn’t spoken to him or heard from him in such a long time. With little else to occupy it, my mind swam with questions. Had he seen me in chopper fly-bys on the news? When I talked to him at the hospital he couldn’t see, was eh blind? Why hadn’t he tried to contact me? Had there been some complications? Had he died? Or was he avoiding me because I was now a hulking monstrosity?

By the end of the third week of agonising boredom I finally got Scorder to ask if the news reporters were still interested and, much to my surprise, they were. And before he left I asked if he could find out how Mike was.

I half expected him to tell me to go to hell, that he wasn’t a messenger boy for a giant. But he just nodded and started walking toward the barriers. Over the past few weeks he’d been rather understanding. He’d set up a projection TV, gotten me a pile of mattresses that I used as a pillow and other little things to make my life a little easier. It had been a long time since I’d met a reasonable man who wasn’t part of SPRT. Maybe I just wasn’t looking in the right places.

Looking over at the crowd of reporters, I could see they were all pushing frantically at the barrier, all very eager to get the scoop of the year, if not the decade. Finally Sergeant Scorder chose one of them to let through the gate. The little man was dressed in the standard black jacket, long black pants, tie and white shirt popular among members of his profession. He motioned for his camerawoman, a tall delicate thing with short brown hair, wearing a flannelette shirt, blue jeans and a cap.

They jogged over to the line of police cars where Sergeant Scorder handed the reporter his loudspeaker mike.

“Umm… I’d like to do the interview in person.” I said. Scorder took the mike back.

“This is in person,” the reporter seemed to disagree. He and Scorder traded heated words for a few more minutes until Scorder’s voice finally came over the speaker agen.

“All right, Ms. Etherglade, he’s waived his right to a liability suit. He’s coming through.” Poor Scorder, no one seemed to be listening. It would have been safer for him to insist the reporter stay there. Can’t have accidents if you don’t put yourself in hazardous situations.

The reporter wanted to get the “headline” shots, but I wanted some company. It’s like the difference between talking to someone on the phone and having them right there, with you, in the room. I was getting lonely in the absence of human presence. It felt good to have someone to talk to, even if they were there just to fire questions at me.

The little news crew jogged up to me with no doubt or fear that I would hurt them. I kneeled down in front of them as they approached my tent. Slowing to a walk they gaped up in awe at my size, eyes wide, mouths open in silence. It made me smile.

“Hmm… hello. My name is Jonathan Holloway and this is my camerawoman Jena Mcbride.”

“I’m pleased to meet you. May I pick you up?”

“Excuse me?”

“May I hold you in my hand for the interview?” He stopped, shocked by the suggestion. It seemed he was brave enough to get this close, but not to be touched.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Ms. Etherglade.”

“But I can hardly hear you down there. Come on, I promise to be gentle, and I have had practice. I’m sure you’ve seen the footage of me holding Rachel at the hospital.” He thought about that for a second, then finally agreed.

I laid my hand palm up on the ground and asked Holloway to lie down, head toward my thumb. Cocking his head to one side, a slight look of confusion spread over his face, but he did it anyway. When he was laying flat on my palm I asked the camerawoman to do the same.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m going to close my fingers over you. Oh, and hands over your head.” I slowly closed my fists over the two people in my palms. I could see the anxiety growing in their expressions as fingers longer and thicker than their legs closed around them. I could feel their little bodies flinch with the expectation of pain. But there was none. As their subconscious began to realise I wasn’t going to crush them they relaxed in my grip.

Righting them in my fists I slowly raised myself until I was standing. I hated it when giants just get up when they’re holding you. The speed makes you giddy.

Mr Holloway stretched his arm out.

“Now I see why you asked us to put our hands up. Shall we begin, Jen?” Ms Mcbride nodded and positioned the camera on her shoulder.

“Ms. Ether glade, are you ready?”

“Sure.”

Mcbride aimed the camera at the handheld reporter as he spoke.

“Good evening. I’m here at the old Gladstone munitions and steel refinery, which has been home to a most special visitor for the past few weeks. Some of you might remember one morning a few weeks back when a giant woman walked down Main Street. She has recently agreed to an interview and now I am being held in the palm of her hand!” Jan fiddled with the camera lens, then panned up to me.

Ms. Etherlade, I assume you weren't always this large. Tell us, how tall were you before you grew?

I could feel a huge smile growing on my face as I answered. “I was six inches tall.”

“You mean, you felt six inches tall?”

“No, I was six inches tall. The growth agent was made to cure the condition I had. When they administered it they failed to account for my increased metabolism and I grew too much.”

“That’s amazing! Ms. Etherglade, were you born with this condition or did you catch it somehow?" A pause. "Ms Etherglade?”

First there was a wave of cold. My breath quickened, the temperature seemed to plummet, and it became harder and harder to breathe. My chest felt like it had turned to flypaper. As I breathed out my sides seemed to stick together.

The reporter in my hand suddenly looked very frightened. Whether he was frightened of me or what was happening I didn’t know.

“Mm… Ms. Etherglade, are you all right?”

Shaking my head I closed my fist over the little guy and began to lower to my knees. The fight to pull my lungs open was sapping my strength away and I couldn’t stand any more. I opened my palm to the ground and the little journalist made a run for the police blockade.

Then it hit me like jab in the gut. A sharp searing pain deep in my belly like my stomach was being hollowed out with a dull blade. I doubled over, trying to shriek with pain but all that came out was a silky gurgling sound. Grabbing my midriff I could almost feel the flesh just under the skin churning inside me. My head spun with oxygen deprivation, white spots began dance over my vision while it blurred at the edges. I wanted to lapse into unconsciousness, to let the white nothingness engulf me. But the pain and the cold were too intense.

Somewhere in the background I could vaguely hear Scorder yelling over his loudspeaker. The pain deepened as the white blotches closed in on my sight. When the world was completely obscured, all went dark and I was lost to the world.

All was black. My mind drifted in a sea of blissful nothingness. Then somewhere in the distance, voices. Wordless chattering I couldn’t make out through the blackness and space. As the voices drew nearer a dull, slow pain began to roll into my world. I didn’t want to go back to light, back to the pain. I wanted to stay here where it was safe and warm.

But the voices grew louder and as the black slowly peeled away I began to recognise words amongst the noise.

“Scorder!……Sc..d.r….sh….ean poison..”

My eyes flew open at the recognition of that signal word. Poison! I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. I was tied down with heavy chains. Everyone was screaming, my head felt like it was split in two and I’d pay big money if they’d all just shut up.

“Ms Etherglade pleas stop struggling.” It was Sergeant Scorder.

“What the fuck is going on Scorder? What happened to me? Why am I tied up?”

“You’re tied up because there are very anxious but very dedicated medics tending to you who don’t want to be crushed if you have another segue. Now please try to relax.”

I took a deep breath in through my mouth and let it out my nose. I thought it might hurt to breathe but fortunately it didn’t. I turned my head to look at the little Sergeant that had been looking after me all this time. I was surprised to see him standing right there and for the first time I had a good look at him.

He was a relatively attractive man despite his painfully thin frame. He was practically skin and bones. His black curly hair jutted out to the sides like small furry pyramids. But what really drew your my attention to his face were his eyes, a stunning cobalt blue that seemed to shimmer against the pale white of his skin. Set deep into his skull, it seemed as though they could look straight through you. I bet he used those eyes on people in the interrogation room.

“I’m sorry, what happened?”

Scorder nodded and continued. “Someone poisoned your food with cyanide a week ago. It’s been touch and go since then.” He paused for a moment “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

“I can’t stay here, Sergeant Scorder.”

“That has become painfully obvious, Ms. Etherglade.” He looked down and breathed a deep sigh.

“I suppose I could turn you in to the military, but I don’t want to do that. They’ve been hounding me about forking you over for a while now. ”

“I suppose they're blurting out some bullshit about national security?”

“You could say that. They have a lot more funding at their disposal then we do. What really gets me is the way they came in, ordering me and my people around and just expecting us to hand you over like they own the joint”

“I’m not going to let the army get their filthy hands on me, Scorder. Do you understand? If they do, they’ll kill me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you learned anything yet, Scorder? The Dominants are everywhere. And even if they're not I’m not going to let them turn me in to their latest weapons development program. I’m not even the one who’s done something wrong.”

“I understand, Ms. Etherglade, but I hope you realize if the mayor caves on me I won’t have any choice.”

“I’m not going with the army and I’m not staying here. And you can’t keep me here; I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I can’t just let you waltz about town, Ms. Etherglade. I can keep you confined just as I can keep someone with a deadly virus confined. You’re a potential public health hazard.” His words were harsh but his tone was sympathetic. I could see his point; without meaning to I had already destroyed probably over a hundred homes (if you could call them that). Not to mention the warehouse I inadvertently demolished. No one had been killed yet, but if you keep tempting fate, eventually you’ll lose.

I took a deep breath in and let it out. If there’s one thing Rachel taught me while Mike and I were staying with her it was that a giantess has to control herself whenever she’s around “little people.” Otherwise accidents happen and people die.

“Scorder, can you please get these chains off? I promes to be good.”

Scorder looked to one of the medics and just shook his head. “When the medics are finished looking you over well undo the chains.”

Well, that was Mr. Cautious for you.

The medics ran a few more tests and took a few more hours to make sure I was ok. Apparently they’d been doing that periodically over the last week. They weren’t quite sure what to do with me. I was far too big for them to use any of their equipment, and the only treatment for cyanide poisoning was a preventative. So their visits were mostly to try and determine why I wasn’t dead. The medic I talked to was a bit insensitive, but at least he was honest.

They finished up and a small group of men came to unchain me. I’m not sure what they expected, but they came in decked out in full SWAT uniform and hightailed it out of my tent as soon as my bonds were loose.

What a day.

The next day I didn’t wake until noon, but when I did I felt like a million bucks. The soreness was gone and in its place was a new strength. My lungs felt so… open. I don’t know any other way to describe it, but suddenly it felt much easier to breathe.

I took a few deep breaths in, trying to calm myself. I mean, it wasn't like I could do anything with so much energy. After a few minutes of trying to compose myself I finally emerged for yet another blisteringly boring day.

I was shocked at what I found. The police blockade was gone and so were the barriers cordoning off the street. Looking around, I could see the bazooka teams had been replaced by choppers carrying bazooka teams, all fully powered up and ready to take off. I guess Scorder had found a new place to hide me away.

In the middle of the street, where it had been all this time, was a single squad car with two men standing on either side of it. The one on the left, with his trusty loudspeaker, I recognised as Sergeant Scorder. The other man was a bit shorter and built a bit better. He had a steel cane in one arm and a cast on the other. He seemed familiar somehow.

“Mike!” My muscles suddenly felt like steel springs, straining against my will, wanting to propel me toward this tiny fragile creature who somehow managed to hold all my affection. I was suddenly aware of my heart pounding in my chest.

I collapsed to the ground knowing that if I remained standing I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I couldn’t just run up and scoop him into my hand. I might hurt him. So I kneeled there, breathing heavily, my heart jumping up into my throat, hands outstretched, beckoning him to come to me. I didn’t yet trust myself to go to him.

He started hobbling toward me. If I weren’t one of the people involved I would have found it funny. It was pretty obvious he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. He was just so goddam slow, it brought a big smile to my face.

He finally reached the space between my knees. We looked at one another for a long moment. In his eyes I could see the tiniest bit of fear. I should have been expecting it but I hadn’t. It forced me back to reality, back to a place I didn’t want to go.

When I was small I was afraid of Mike. I knew he loved me and would never hurt me, but somewhere deep down inside my subconscious was the fear that this gigantic creature would snuff out my life like it was nothing.

In those moments before his huge fingers wrapped around me, my body would tense up, wanting to flee from his power. How could anything so huge and with so much destructive potential be gentle? I had experienced how destructive other hands had could be.

But then his hands would close around me and there would be no pain. They were strong and firm but not harmful. My body would then relax. It happened every time and I would have to come to terms with the fact that if I stayed this way Mike would never fully trust me. And I couldn’t blame him.

“Hi Ronny. ”

“Hey Mike.”

“I guess you turned out ok after all.”

“Will you come into my hand, Mike?”

“Of course, Veronica. Could you… umm… give me a hand?”

I giggled; putting my other hand at his back I lifted him as gently as I could with my thumb and forefinger. I watched as he settled into my palm and when he was ready I slowly stood up to my full hight. Like I said, I hated it when giants just stood up. It makes you giddy.

I began to think of ways he showed me affection when our situation was reversed. As he sat in my palm I moved my thumb over his body and slowly lowered doun until I could just feel his soft midriff under my pad. He felt so soft, so tender and warm there under my thumb and as I slowly traced up to his chest he snuggled his face into my side.

It was so strange. At that moment all there was in my world was my hand and my little lover laying in it. And somehow that slight touch was enough. I slowly brought him up to my lips and tried my best to whisper.

“Mike? May I kiss you?”

“That’s why I’ve got a plastic bag around my cast.”

A smile bloomed on my face as I bit my lip. I guess that was his way of saying I could bathe him in my saliva.

Kissing a giant is always messy for the little one but that didn’t mean it wasn’t affectionate. When Mike played with me in his mouth he would slide his huge tongue over my body, between my long legs, and over my ample (for a six inch woman) breasts. He was always aware of how I was positioned and was careful to avoided straddling my face and pushing me onto his teeth. I’d been sucked on by other giants and giantesses but Mike made me feel like I was much more than just a chew toy.

I brought my face down a little further and took in his familiar scent. It was so strange. Usually when we made love his scent would literally surround me. I brought my lips down and kissed his body, feeling his warm, tender frame under my lips. He spread his legs and I knew why. My tongue darted out and slowly made its way up my palm, between his legs and under his tight, lucious ass. I closed my mouth over his legs and began to gently suckle them. Each new kiss drew him farther into my mouth until finally he disappeared completely out of view.

But I could feel his presence and taste him there under my tongue. I didn’t want to move him around, but I guessed I could feel him up a little. Breathing through my mouth I moved my tongue off of him and he moved back toward my lips. I positioned my tongue to come up between his legs and ever so gently began to massage his crotch with the tip of my tongue.

The feeling was a double-edged sword. There was the power trip. I had him in my mouth and there were so many ways I could snuff his little life. Then there was the warm feeling that came from his trust. I’d felt him flinch when I first picked him up, but when I went to draw him into my mouth there was no screaming, no struggle. He even helped me, made it easier, smoother. I was in complete control and he didn’t seem to mind.

With his tiny hands, he grabbed ether side of my tongue, moving them up and down so I could taste him directly again. I moved my tongue up under his soaked shirt, feeling my way over his washboard abs and up to his solid chest. I couldn’t help myself; a low moan escaped my throat and my hand began to wander down toward my nether regons.

“Ahem! Ms. Etherglade, if you could spit your boyfriend out, we need to leave.”

Oh god. I put my hands up over my face and mentally kicked myself. Scorder had been watching us the whole time. I bent my head down and sucked as I drew him out of my mouth. I rolled the taste of him around in my mouth before finally swallowing. He lay there in my hand for a while, a huge smile on his face. Way to spoil the mood, Scorder.

“Ms. Etherglade, I have some good news and some bad news.”

Sighing, I looked back at the Sergeant. “Give me the good news first, Sargent.”

“The good news is we found a new place for you to stay. It’s interstate but I think you’ll be much more at home there.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s at a farm in Tamoc. Another twenty-seven giant people were found there. I got a call from your friend Ms. Arnweel She’s been arranging the supplies and what not for them all.”

“And what is the bad news?”

He paused for a long while, hanging his head in deep contemplation. I guessed it was really bad.

“Lyndon has escaped.”

“What?” Mike and I said in unison.

“Lyndon was busted out by someone last night. He killed three of my officers. Can we please just get going?”

And with that, Scorder got into his car, the choppers took off and I followed, one foot after the other, behind the car. My escort was a lot smaller this time, but a lot more lethal. After a few minutes of walking I tried to turn my mind to more pleasant thoughts.

“So, did you enjoy our little pash?” I asked Mike

“Well it was… interesting.”

I tried to remember the feeling. “Mmm I enjoyed it too.”

“ Is that what it was like to be…”

“Inside your maw?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose. I was trying to remember what you did when I was in your position. I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No, Veronica, you were just fine.”

I closed my thumb over him and he snuggled up to it like a pillow. It seemed he was taking to being the small one in the relationship much better than I had. But then again, he hadn’t been bashed and molested by any giants yet. I lifted him up to my face.

“You were always gentle with me, Mike. Always.”